What happened to the polkadots?
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: Silly little drabble in which Natsume gets more than he bargained for.


Silly drabble because I love this couple and the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

* * *

Natsume Hyuuga could just tell it was going to be one of _those _days.

It'd started as every day had, with the sun rising, and like every spring morning so far it rained as if the heavens had deliberately torn apart to pour discontent over the whole of Alice Academy.

Luckily for him Natsume had the good sense to take shelter just before the start of the downpour; his alice normally told him when there were drastic changes in humidity, so he had plenty of forewarning - _however _there were others who were not so fortunate.

"HOTARUUUUU!!!!" Came a wail as the purr of one of Imai-san's engines drew up on Natsume's right, and Hotaru quickly whizzed by in a rainproof adaptation of her favoured 'duck-hovercraft,' followed closely by the pounding of wet boots on slippery concrete.

"HOTARUUU!!" Screamed Mikan as she stumbled lamely after her best-friend's invention, soaked from head to foot and with tears threatening to join the masses, "Why don't you wait for…" cutting herself off with a sigh, Mikan solemnly watched the dark-haired prodigy disappear around a corner, "Why do you always do this, Hotaru?" she moaned while attempting to wring some of the water out of her pigtails.

For once Natsume reckoned she'd actually asked a valid question, why _did _the same things happen over and over? Surely they'd grown out of these hopeless patterns over the years, and there had been many years since the traditions had started – but even Natsume himself was surprised that he was still alive and in the Academy at the age of _sixteen_, no less, surely he should've died or been expelled by now?

As it was, high school was exactly what he'd expected of it: an institution no different to any other part of the Academy and therefore boring, dull, filled with mindless idiots and the sort of place that regularly gave rise to days like _this._ It wasn't that there was anything especially _wrong _with the day, it didn't do Natsume the dignity of actually being bad, but nor was it 'good' by any means of definition.

These days were simply a bland stretch of time that started with the first bell and ended with the last - a space occupied with nothing but tedium that he would rather forget about or ignore...either suited his purpose.

He sighed softly and carried on walking, eventually overtaking the stationary girl squeezing the rainwater out of her skirt with a childish pout.

"Ah? … Natsume?" Mikan called after him as he strolled onwards indifferently, hands stuck in pockets and eyes still half-closed from the morning's spell.

"Hey! I am talking to you!" the cries rose indignantly, until the soggy footsteps started up again and whacked furiously against the path as she ran up to close the distance between them, "you know it's rude not to…**WHAA**!" she screamed while slipping forwards and losing the little balance she ever possessed, and with the wet path not helping her all that much (i.e. at all) Mikan Sakura tumbled forward, arms pinwheeling, to land almost flat on her face in a puddle.

The wetness didn't make all that much different to Mikan's overall situation, as she was already drenched from the rain, but the fall had disturbed parts of her uniform that Natsume couldn't help but take advantage of in certain, voyeuristic ways…_after all_, traditions _were _traditions, and anyway, 'Polka' should learn not to show off her panties if she didn't want people looking at them.

"Wow, you sure are clumsy…" the next sound Natsume made couldn't really be translated into words, as it was more of a gasp for air met with a gulp of surprise – equalling out to some sort of shocked hiccup: he hadn't exactly been prepared for what the sodden little kilt had on offer today.

"Go ahead, Natsume," Mikan spat, "_bla-bla-bla,_ I don't even care anymore - so just go ahead and make fun of me you pervert. I don't want to be late for class." However, when she twisted her head around to follow footsteps, Mikan found herself eye-to-palm with Natsume's hand, just hovering there without any sarcastic comments or insults… _confusing _her more than anything else.

"Do you want me to help you up or not?" he demanded after a long pause in which she did nothing more than stare at him, so clipped a short "…idiot" onto the end of the statement for good measure.

"Um…" Mikan breathed worriedly, then eventually lifted a scuffed palm up to place in his, "okay."

Natsume's fingers closed around Mikan's hand and firmly pulled her up. It _should've_ been an innocent gesture, but just as she stood Natsume kept pulling, tugging, yanking on her arm - and in turn _her _– drawing her closer and closer, until his mouth was moved to within a breath of her ear.

"_That skirt is way too short," _he whispered as tiny spirals of steam escaped the corners of his mouth in the thick air, and he leaned in even closer, until lips almost grazed her ear, then added, _"…lacy black panties girl."_

* * *

Hee hee hee. I'm feeling silly now. 


End file.
